Tale of the Dark Roots

You ever wake up and just want to give up on your appearance? Showing up for work, having your co-workers talk behind your back about what a trashtacular turn for the worst your looks have taken?

Hello. My name is Captain and I could give two shits about the way I look.

OK, so I don’t generally go in public decked out like a dork.  But I do often wake up longing for hair that magically grows a light blonde out of my scalp (instead, I have to visit my magician every six weeks) therefore alleviating the need for me to wash my hair every.single.day.  If I miss a shampoo, I look like I have taken Crisco to my roots by noon.

How does one cover up the trashiness growing from her mane? Remedies I’ve found…

#1. The Snooki

The Southern version of the Jersey Shore ‘do.

Requirements: two barrettes. This overall style saves me 25 minutes of hair time in the morning.

Objects may seem higher in the mirror than they are in actuality.

#2. The Bang

When I was bitching at work regarding my hair care, a girl turned around and said, “Just wash your bangs in the morning.” Well DUH!

Full frontal cleanliness.

Requirements: shampoo and blow dryer.  This version of clean hair saves me 20 minutes of primping.

#3. The Bret Michaels

Every hair has its thorn…

Requirement: scarf (and no ponytail the day/night before). This is the ultimate time saver, as I can truly get up, tie a scarf and go (but I have to remember to pack a Sharpie marker in my purse for all of the autographs I’m asked to sign while sporting this style).

#4. The Bun Day

I just recently tried this technique while at the beach over the holidays. So it was an accidental greasy hair cover-up.  When I appeared at work with a knot on my head one dude said “rough night last night?” while another asked if I was a dancer. Seriously.

The hungover ballerina.

Requirements: scrunchie (yes. I said a scrunchie – I’m too cheap to buy the bun sponge helper thing. But it doesn’t count as a scrunchie in public if you can’t see it. Ok? OK?!) and bobby pins.

Two toned remedy equals 15 more minutes of the snooze button!

Now you’ll know when I’m between salon visits – if you can even recognize me in all of my “I -swear-I-don’t-live-in-a-house-on-wheels-although-you’d-never-know-it-with-my-three-inches-of-visible-dark-roots” various, incognito giddy ups.

CBXB